The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu

Chapter Eighty-Four

Zoe sat stock still in the uncomfortable chair as Julian finally came into the interrogation room, holding a folded flexi upon which she recognized her picture. He tossed it on the table without looking at her or it, set down his cup of coffee, and then sighed heavily as he sat down. “Evenin’ Mrs. Washburn,” he grunted. “Evenin’,” replied the captive, calmly. “I want to ask you a few questions.” “I suspected as much.” “I’m not anticipating a lot of cooperation from you,” he added. “You’re very astute.” “When did you first meet Simon Tam.” “When he came on board as a passenger at Persephone.” “And you were headed towards . . . Boros?” “That’s correct.” “With an . . . unscheduled stop on . . . Whitefall?” “Could have been. We stop a lot of places. Hard to keep up.” “Why did Dr. Tam not get off as scheduled on Boros?” “We had to change the schedule. It happens.” “No doubt it does. But it’s almost a year later. He’s still on board. Why?” “He’s a first class trauma surgeon, so he says. Cap’n had a notion that he’d be handy. Offered him a job as ship’s medic.” “And he took it.” “He was between assignments.” “And his sister . . . River?” “What of her?” “What does she do on Serenity?” “Supercargo . . . court jester . . . cabin boy . . . mostly she wanders around aimlessly and talks to the ship.” “That doesn’t sound terribly productive on a working freighter.” “We have stressful jobs. We all need a good laugh upon occasion.” “Somehow I think it’s more complicated than that.” Zoe shrugged. “What are you really asking, Martel? What can I tell you that Simon hasn’t already told you?” “You can tell me why a perfectly sane captain like Reynolds would knowingly keep two wanted fugitives – fugitives worth tens of thousands of credits – against the Alliance when he could make one wave, get rid of them, and make a hefty profit.” “You make an incorrect assumption,” Zoe pointed out. “You are assuming that Malcolm Reynolds is sane.” “You strike me as a reasonably well-adjusted person, Mrs. Washburn. Why would you follow a man who isn’t sane?” “Let me tell you something about Malcolm Reynolds,” Zoe said, after a moment’s thought. “Reynolds survived eight brutal weeks of the worst fighting of the war – the worst kind of fighting, too – at Serenity Valley. ‘Bloody’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. Every day our positions were pounded by artillery and air support. Every night was a life-or-death struggle in the trenches, gun to gun, knife to knife, fist to fist. I personally witnessed Mal kill seven men with his bare hands during that battle, and he killed a helluva lot more than that with guns, barbed wire, grenades, and any convenient rock. He watched men he had led for years, shared a billet with, ate with, cried with and laughed with, he watched them die in horrible ways, crying for their mommies as they tried to stuff their own intestines back into their bodies. He survived all of that – not just survived it, but continued to fight. And he fought hard enough to smash every single unit the purplebellies sent into that valley. He fought with no supplies, no support, and damn little in the way of reinforcements. “And that was after five years of hard war. Mal joined up before there was officially an Independent government – he was an original Browncoat. Started as militia on Shadow. I joined because I’m – I was – career military. Total army brat. Everyone in my family for four generations. When my world signed the Independent Compact, I became a Browncoat by default. Not that I would have ever fought for the Alliance – but I was there because I was a soldier and there was a war. Mal Reynolds, he was there because he believed in the cause with every cell in his body. So when he had to go through the hell of Serenity Valley, with no promised land of Independent sovereignty on the other side, well, let’s just say he left his sanity behind in the mud of Hera.” “So why do you still follow him?” Julian asked, mystified. “Because he kept me alive during that hell. We have a bond of blood and tears that cannot be broken over anything less.” “So, you’re saying Reynolds protected the Tams . . . because he’s crazy?” “He protects the Tams because it is the right thing to do. Because as annoying as Simon is, and as unpredictable and occasionally violent as River can be, they are victims of the Alliance that fought back. Yes, they’re useful. Simon is a crackerjack surgeon, which comes in handy in our line of work. He’s saved just about everyone on board, one time or another. And River . . . she has her uses. She’s a reader,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “What do you mean by that?” asked Julian carefully. “The Alliance . . . messed with her brainpan. Did some sculpting and such. Made her able to . . . to read people’s minds.” “You’re serious?” “Come now, Martel, Simon’s already told you about this,” she chided. “Sounds like a wild story to me. Wouldn’t be the first tall tale I’ve heard on the Rim,” Julian said, doubtfully. “You’ve seen her demonstrate this talent?” “Daily,” Zoe agreed. “She can pull thoughts out of your head you don’t know you’re thinkin’, ‘till she comes out and says them.” “But she’s . . . crazy.” “Someone goes whittlin’ on your gray matter, it might put you off, too. When you’re a teenaged supergenius already, well, you got a head start on the crazies.” “Perhaps Reynolds conceals the Tams because he has an affinity for another mentally ill person?” “Perhaps Reynolds feels sorrowful that the paternalistic oppression of the Alliance has stooped to intentionally damaging a pretty little girl for no good gorram reason,” Zoe countered. “Still, you couldn’t really say that Reynolds’ hatred of the Alliance is so great that he would imperil his ship and crew so greatly. He must have another angle in mind.” “I think you underestimate Captain Reynolds’ hatred of the Alliance. Truth, he’s pissed at the purplebellies over this. Bad enough about the War and Serenity and what that bastard did on Shadow. But carvin’ on little girls heads for shits and giggles, well, he’s like to take offence. Seems any decent man would do the same,” she said pointedly. “It is not for the likes of you or me to question the policies of the Parliament and its agents,” Julian said uncomfortably. “Well if it ain’t, then whose job is it? ‘Cause I got a thing or three I want to say to that cho ji bai. Seriously, Martel, if the likes o’ you an’ me don’t stand up and scream when we see that kinda injustice, what kinda people are we? People like . . . Jubal Early?” “Watch it, Washburn!” Julian warned. “I’m sorry,” Zoe said, sweetly. “I forgot for a moment who was running the interrogation.” “Let’s get back on topic. River Tam. Regardless of the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that have befallen the girl, what kind of threat would you say she is?” Zoe shrugged. “Depends on how much she likes you . . . or not.” “I’m speaking of generally . . . you admit she’s unstable. Is she violent?” “If she has a call to be, I’ve heard it said she can get a little rowdy.” “Would she, say, deploy weapons of mass destruction on a civilian population?” “River hates guns,” Zoe said, simply. “As far as killin’ a whole mess o’ people, well, you’ll have to ask her. I can’t imagine it, though. Sweet girl. Doesn’t deserve what happened to her.” “She ever mention any . . . items of a classified nature?” “How would I know? Girl talks to the ship. Doesn’t make sense half the time, the other half ain’t what I’d call inspired rhetoric. She’s addled, like I said. But she hasn’t burped up the plans to the Alliance’s new line of patrol boats, or the Prime Minister’s mistress’ name or anything.” “I see. How about Simon Tam?” “Boy’s a good healer. Smart fellow. Brave, no doubt. Not real wise, I suppose, but brave. Core-world boy. Little naïve about some things, out here on the Rim.” “But . . . as far as you know he has no plans for universal domination?” Zoe couldn’t stop laughing hysterically for several minutes. “That boy can’t manage to lay a girl who’s throwing it at him for eight months from no more’n fifty feet away. ‘Universal Domination’ – you must be on drops. Simon’s only concern is running, hiding from the Alliance, and taking care of his sib.” “Then what about that doomsday ship we were on?” demanded Julian. “What was that all about, if not an attempt to foment rebellion against the Alliance?” Zoe shrugged again. “Just a job. Got hired by a kid to help with a salvage operation. Old family heirloom, or somesuch. We did it, we get paid. I hope,” she added. “So . . . setting free a couple of thousand die-hard Imperials on a devastating warship is ‘just a job’?” he asked, incredulously. “They start trouble, that’s the Alliance’s business, not ours.” “You really want to see another war, Zoe?” “If it means keeping the Alliance’s grubby little paws off o’ every human being’s life an’ lettin’ them live it proper, then a war ain’t too much to endure,” Zoe declared. “Truth? I wasn’t quite done with the last one. Not sayin’ I’d sign up again, but damn if I’m gonna weep over it.” “Millions might die,” Julian pointed out. “Millions die every day,” Zoe countered. “How many little kids on Verbena got Chin’s Palsy, ‘cause the Alliance an’ their corporate buddies don’t want to pass out vaccines before the colonists are willing to swear loyalty to the gorram Alliance? How many colonists on the Rim starve out because the Companies won’t advance them more seed after a failed year? How many kids see their folks get sold off in indenture to terraformers because they can’t pay their taxes an’ the gorram Alliance considers it a worthy investment in the future?” She sneered. “Another war might make the Purplebellies think twice afore they start throwin’ their hegemony around.” “I can see we have a political impasse.” “That’s a kindness, puttin’ it that way.” “You know, I’ve been ordered by my clients to put you and Mr. Cobb out the airlock,” he warned. “How civilized of them. No trial? No defense? No judge?” “I’m not a municipality, sorry,” Julian said sarcastically. “No, but you say you’re a deputized lawman,” Zoe said. “You’ve been a cop for years. I can tell. How many suspects did you put out an airlock? Or shoot in the back and plant a gun on? How many innocents did you frame, Martel, at your masters’ behest?” “I was clean!” Julian said, more fervently than he had wished. “I never took a dime, never knowingly brought in an innocent . . . look, I don’t like this any more than you do—” “You ain’t the one in the airlock!” “—but I do have my orders. And I don’t have a compelling reason to spare you.” “The fact we ain’t been charged with a crime don’t weigh?” “I’m not, in point of fact, a sitting lawman,” he reminded. “That’s right. You’re a bought-and-paid-for bounty hunter. You hunt bounties. Okay, Martel, you an’ your little army got one, with Simon. Hell, you might could have stuff on me an’ Jayne, too – I wouldn’t doubt it. But you put us in the airlock, you’re no better than Early. No better than the yang gue ji bai who hired you. You took us – show us the warrants. Or let us go. But you flush us out into the Black, you best give up the pretense at bein’ a defender o’ truth and justice. ‘Cause that would be untruthful and unjust. Put us before a magistrate, that’s one thing. Execute us . . . well, you ain’t really a bounty hunter no more, then, are you?” “What about Cobb?” “Jayne? Oh, hell, go ahead and space him.” “You don’t seem very loyal to your crewmates.” “Just wait ‘till you interrogate him. You’ll appreciate my position.” “So . . . Jayne is your weak link?” “He’d sell his own grandmother into indenture for the price of a drink and a screw. A bad screw.” “So . . . why hasn’t he turned on the Tams? Sold them out like a good little outlaw?” “Who says he didn’t? I heard tell he tried, once in the Core.” “Where?” “Not important. Suffice it to say that the Alliance offered him a whole lotta coin to set them up . . . and then tried to renege on the deal. Jayne might be a big dumb mercenary, but there are some things about which he ain’t stupid. In our line o’ work, you learn early on that a man who crosses you once ain’t gonna think too hard about doin’ it again. So when the Feds screwed Jayne on that little, itty bitty reward, he done learned not to cooperate like that again.” “He betrayed your crew . . . and he’s still on board?” Zoe shrugged. “Hence my ambivalent attitude regarding his survival. He’s a good fighter, an excellent tracker, and if intimidation was bankable the boy’d be richer than a king. But it ain’t, he ain’t, and he’s not the ideal choice of roommates on a day-to-day basis.” “But Reynolds kept him after all that?” “You get to cross Mal Reynolds . . . once. Cap’n made his point after the fact. Made it on his chin with a twenty-five millimeter vanadium chrome crescent wrench. After that, Jayne became a model crewmember. Well, except for persisting in being a louse of a human being, cutting his toenails at the kitchen table, and making crude sexual remarks every time he draws breath.” “Sounds like he’d fit right in on your boat.” “You’d best indicate a level of good natured mirth when you say that sort of thing about Serenity. That ship is my home.” “I think I’m about done here,” Julian said, after a moment’s reflection. “There is one more piece of bad news, I’m afraid.” “Worse than the airlock? You gonna breed me an’ Jayne for kicks before we explosively decompress? Better take pictures, then. It’s gonna get bloody.” “My ship was attacked a few hours ago by an antiquated fighter. After destroying several of my automated drones, the ship . . . vandalized the Relentless. But it did not escape. We damaged it, and then it flew around the horizon of the Sun Tzu, out of our line of sight, and exploded. It is my belief that the pilot was your husband, Hoban Washburn.” Zoe was silent for a moment, thoughtful and concerned. Finally she shook her head. “Nope. He ain’t dead.” “It was a really large explosion. My analysts tell me that it appeared that his on-board munitions went off unexpectedly.” “Might could have. But he ain’t dead.” “You have a lot of faith, Mrs. Washburn.” She shook her head again. “Ain’t faith. Leastways, not like you think. You familiar with the myth of Anteas?” “Um . . . Roman?” “Greek, as if it makes a difference. Anteas was the beloved son of the Earth Goddess, a giant of a man. A real brute. He could fight anyone, and every time he was injured all he had to do was touch his mother to be healed. As long as he touched the Earth, he couldn’t be killed. Heracles had to suspend him in the air and break his neck to get past him.” “And . . . your husband is a relative?” “No. He’s the reverse. If he’s got all ten toes in the dirt, my man is the clumsiest, klutziest rube in the ‘verse. He’s vulnerable on the ground. But as long as he’s touching the Black, ain’t no power in Heaven or Earth that can stop him. I ain’t seen a lot o’ pilots, truth, but there ain’t one been whelped that can out-fly my baby. So until I see his cold, dead corpse with my own two eyes, forgive me if I decline to grieve. In fact, y’all might want to move cautiously, afore you go chuckin’ folk out of airlocks. I saw the tag he put on your ship – you got any doubt he coulda put a hole in you if he wanted to? You kill me – hell, you piss me off bad – you gotta answer to him. We made some friends on this job, friends that got nukes. And if he can get his hands on a ship, any ship at all, you’d best get your affairs in order. ‘Cause my baby is a stubborn shen jing bing, and you hurt me he’ll make you pay dearly.” “The Relentless could withstand a hit with a nuke,” Julian said, patronizingly. “It’s Alliance war surplus. Our hull armor is the best.” “You hurt me, my man will find a way to cut through it. There won’t be a hole deep enough for you to hide in. He’s just like that.” “Forgive me for not fainting in fear. You know, it’s kind of sad, really, Mrs. Washburn. With your record and your skill set you would be an outstanding addition to any security organization lucky enough to attract your talents. It’s a pity you choose to waste them with a motley band of outlaws.” “You offerin’ me a job? Or are you throwin’ me into the Black?” “That remains to be seen,” Julian said, after a moment. “Let’s get you back to your cell, now. It’s Mr. Cobb’s turn.”

*

*

*

Jayne sat uncomfortably on the chair, his hands still bound behind him, fixing Julian with a steely gaze that would have left a lesser man intimidated. Julian didn’t mind. Tam’s interrogation had been unexpectedly rewarding, and Washburn’s had bee unexpectedly unhelpful, but in each case he had not quite been in his element. Compared to Tam’s mental gymnastics and Washburn’s taciturn threats, Cobb was like a breath of fresh atmo. He was a mercenary, a thug-for-hire, loyal to no one but himself. He was like a thousand other thugs Julian had interrogated: violent, brutal, nasty and morally repugnant. Self interest oozed from every pore. Julian was once more in his element. “So, Mr. Cobb,” he said, more than a hint of derision in his voice. “What are we going to do with you?” “A gorram steak dinner would be a good start,” he grumbled. “What? Tired of dumplings already?” Cobb just stared at him. “I find they disagree with me,” he said in a low, menacing voice – which also betrayed a certain amount of anxiety. Men like Cobb often responded to stressful situations with violence. It’s what made them good warriors . . . and lousy defendants. When a skillful interrogator was able to push their buttons to the point of violence, they rarely thought straight and sometimes let slip useful information. “Now, about the Tams . . .” “It’s them y’all want, not me,” Cobb said, promptly. “But I have a warrant here for your arrest, some dipshit colony called . . . Higgins’s Moon?” “Oh. That. A little misunderstandin’ between me an’ the local administration,” he dismissed. “Over some . . . gamblin’ debts.” “That’s not what the sheet says. Sheet says, ‘grand larceny, breaking and entering, safe cracking, vehicle theft, brandishing firearms in a secure area, and flight from justice.’” Cobb strained to read the sheet upside-down. Julian obligingly tagged it and flipped the text so he could read it more easily. His lips moved while he read. “Must be a typo,” he grunted when he finished and sat back in his chair. “Really.” “Yessir. Ain’t no way I’m goin’ in for a paltry two grand. You call them up and demand more reward – I’m the Hero of Canton, y’know,” he said, smugly. “Got a rep to uphold. You wanna haul my ass in, you do your damnedest. But not for two measly bills. Ain’t respectful o’ my reputation. Nor yours,” he added. “We’ll just have to see about that.” “You ask five, minimum. Magistrate wants me that bad. And,” he said, conspiratorially, “You split the difference with me, I might could say some choice words to get it boosted to eight. But two grand . . . ain’t hardly worth the trip.” “Well,” Julian said, smirking. “I’ve been in this business a long time. And I have to say that this is the first instance of a capture encouraging me to up the reward – and want me to split it with him.” “I’m what you call a progressive thug,” Jayne said, nodding. “Always thinkin’.” “And it’s actually your thoughts I’m most interested in,” Julian nodded. “Specifically, your thoughts about Simon and River Tam.” “They’re hard-core criminals,” Cobb said promptly. “They should be locked up.” “Awful quick to sell your crewmates down the river,” Julian noted. “The Doc’s all right, for a stuck-up, pompous, stick-up-his-ass Coreworld boy doctor,” Cobb assured. “But he should get indicted for lettin’ that crazy sister o’ his loose on the ‘verse. Girl sliced my belly open with a butcher knife one day. Just for giggles. I can abide a man prone to violence – partial to that role, myself. But for crazy little girls what barely got udders on ‘em, ain’t right for them to be whippin’ around the cutlery like that.” “No doubt she was inspired,” Julian said, drolly. “But what I’m most concerned with is this: do you have any experience with River Tam . . . reading your mind?” Cobb looked at him, conflicted. Finally he spat out, “Yes, she’s a gorram witch. Some even tried to burn her the once. But Mal said we gotta rescue her, so we did.” He sounded disgusted. “Just another one o’ his flashes o’ brilliance. Them two been a bucket full o’ trouble and not much else, since they came on.” “Really?” Julian asked, surprised that Cobb – who he reckoned an ignorant savage, at best – would admit it so freely. “So she really can read minds?” “Yeah, she knew . . . things about me. Things a body don’t share outside the confines of confession or pillow talk. Ain’t no way she could know, otherwise. She’s a reader, all right.” “Is that how she knew you betrayed the Tams on . . . Ariel, I suppose it was?” “More than likely,” agreed Cobb. “Ain’t proper, her bein’ able to say what’s in a man’s personal, private thoughts. Ain’t . . . natural!” “Have you had any experience or knowledge of Simon Tam plotting mass murder, insurrection, or rebellion with the intention of overthrowing the Alliance?” he asked, pointedly. Cobb laughed. Cobb laughed so hard he fell out of his chair, rolled around, and took several minutes to come to his senses. When he finally regained his seat, his face was red and there were tears in his eyes. “Dr. Dickless? Overthrow the Alliance? I don’t know what kinda whiskey y’all been gettin’, but I’d get my money back – y’all got the vapors!” “So you would say that Tam isn’t a threat to the established order?” “Hell, Doc’s not a threat to anythin’ bigger’n a bacterium!” Cobb declared. “He might have a decent mind for crime – he’s had some interestin’ insights on a few jobs – but ‘a threat to the established order’? That’s some funny go se, Martel! No, only thing the boy wants to do is to get away with his sister. Real close, they are. Reeaall close. Might be more to it than just sibling harmony, but that’s just speculationon my part. Happens, even in the best families, it’s said. I knew a kid once, he an’ his sister were close like that, an’ next thing you know they up an’ move to the other side o’ the world an’ set up like they was married proper. Yeah, she was a fine ‘un, too . . .” he muttered, drifting blank-eyed off into his own private sexual fantasy world. “Tits like melons . . .” “And the thought of that . . . arouses you?” Julian asked, his mirth barely held back by his professional demeanor. “Well . . . River ain’t much t’look at, I s’pose – hell, her brother’s the pretty one, if you went that way. But the two o’ them . . . hell, I s’pose I should be disgusted, but I got what you call a Yang Hangover. A Yangover. Hey, that’s a funny one! Yeah, I pigged on this stuff I thought was yak jerky left over from Wuhan, but ‘parently was . . . mammoth parts. Parts that drive up your Yang, so the Heavenly Master says. So I’m hornier than a three-balled stallion right now, pardon. ‘Till I get sexed good an’ proper . . . last time I recall was on Epiphany, with that blonde real estate lady . . . thought I had a prime chance back on Athens, but all them ladies were lady lovers, if you take my meaning . . .” “I do, and as fascinating as your sexual exploits doubtless are, I’m afraid I’ve got to move on. Thank you, Mr. Cobb. You’ve been most cooperative.” “Uh . . . Any chance you’re gonna let me walk?” “No. No chance at all.” Cobb’s shoulders sagged. “Didn’t think so. Well, had to try.” “I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t,” assured Julian. “You know I’m bound to try and escape,” added Cobb. “I know. And you know I can shoot you dead for trying,” reminded Julian. “I know. Just so we’re on the same page.” “I appreciate it. Most of my captures don’t warn me of such things.” “Like I said: progressive thug.” “And a credit to your profession. All right, Mr. Cobb, back to your cell. We have a while before we make it back to civilization, so try to make yourself comfortable.” “Surely will. And Mr. Martel?” “Yes?” “It was a pleasure bein’ bound by you, Sir.”

*

*

*

“You told him what?” Zoe asked in disbelief, when Jayne was brought back to the small cell the three of them shared. “Not much,” Jayne said, defensively. “Just told him Simon here didn’t have enough balls to overthrow a kiddie birthday party, much less the whole gorram Alliance. We touched on some other issues, like his crazy-ass sis an’ my impressively throbbin’ manhood, but—” “Don’t,” Simon warned, “ever use those two elements in the same sentence. Ever again.” “Oh, cool your jets, Sawbones,” Jayne dismissed. “The two were unrelated. I just told him about the whole Yang controversy an’ me gettin’ all wound up, an’ how the last decent piece I got was that Goldwyn tart back on Epiphany, the blonde one—” “Her name was Mila Goldman, and she wasn’t really a blonde,” Simon said, before he properly thought out the consequences of his actions. “She . . .” Jayne started, then stopped, staring at the man. “What?” “I’m with Jayne on this one,” agreed Zoe, with obvious interest. “What was that?” Simon closed his eyes, realizing his mistake. “I said,” he repeated carefully. “Her name was Mila Goldman. Not Goldwyn.” “Yeah, that part don’t concern me as much as . . .” “The hair color issue,” finished Zoe. “Now how do you know that?” “I’m a trained medical professional,” Simon said stiffly. “And I’m a trained horn dog,” Jayne shot back. “She was slick. No way you coulda known that, unless . . .” “Say it, Jayne,” Zoe said, smirking. “Unless you knew the carpet didn’t match the drapes!” Simon flushed deeply red. “I assure you, I—” “Don’t bother lying, Doc,” Zoe said. “What, are you a telepath now?” he asked, his dignity offended. “Nope. Next best thing. A wife,” she reminded. “Where in hell did you get a chance to tap that vein o’ gold?” Jayne asked, surprised. “That were choice cooze, any way you look at it!” “I . . . I just – oh, bloody hell. She was my ‘tour guide’ while I was playing the playboy. I didn’t want to,” he explained. “I really didn’t. I was having a good time with Kaylee.” “But apparently not as good a time as you had with . . . Mila?” “I said I didn’t want to!” Simon declared, his face beet red. “I didn’t! She was like a gorram octopus! I tried to be polite, tried to be firm—” “And I just bet you were!” Zoe grinned savagely. “But I had to protect the ship. I had to keep her from researching my persona and discovering the truth. If she had, we would all have been in danger.” “So you did her to protect the team?” “Essentially . . . yes! Inara said I should!” he whined defensively. “Besides, I wasn’t that keen on the idea to start with – I knew who she’d been with the night before!” he said, looking daggers at Jayne. “All o’ that I gave her, an’ she still wanted more?” Jayne asked, impressed. “It was purely business, I assure you,” Simon said, dryly. Then he remembered something. Something River had mentioned to him that didn’t make sense until now. “But that could be said to describe both of our encounters, now couldn’t it?” he asked, airily. That caught Jayne up short. “What do you . . .?” “River had some interesting things to say about her . . . right after she slapped me . . .” “I always wondered what that was about,” admitted Zoe. “You just keep your peace, there, Doc,” Jayne said, uneasily. “No need goin’ an’ spillin’ stuff what not ought to be spilled!” “I was just . . . shocked, when I heard about the money—” “Now that’s enough!” Jayne said, forcefully. “I think we can all agree t’be gentlefolk about this, now can’t we? Shipmates and all, remember,” he cautioned, desperately. “I didn’t know she was going to – I mean, I gotta admit that I’m impressed you hit a tender morsel like that, I truly am, Doc. She had the softest, best tasting—” “That’s quite enough,” agreed Zoe, raising her palm. “I don’t need details. But that tart was rich enough not to have to sell it to make her rent. Which could only mean—” “Gorram it!” Jayne exploded. “I just wanted to get me some trim! Don’t be trashin’ my good name as a ne’er do well on account o’ one misunderstandin’! Weren’t expectin’ it to get outta hand like that!” “Neither did I,” agreed Simon. “In point of fact, it would trouble certain members of our crew, should this become common knowledge. I don’t think I need to point out whom, even to you, Jayne.” “Hell, Kaylee’d be okay with it. Girl likes a good tumble, so she says. An’ it ain’t like your taken her temperature regular, if you know what I mean. And there was that fellow on that dipshit moon a while back, what was his name . . .” “Yes, I do, and that’s beside the point,” lectured Simon. “I think we have quite enough on our plate without upsetting the one person on the ship upon whom our safe conveyance depends the most. So. I think we can all agree, for the sake of all, that should we ever get out of this latest round of certain doom that we can safely leave this tidbit of information here in this cell and never forth speak of it again,” he intoned solemnly. “I’m just gratified to hear it,” Zoe agreed. “Clears the air, a bit. And you know what’s better than knowing that Simon got his rocks off and Jayne got paid . . . for services rendered?” “What?” the two men asked in depressed unison. “That I now have something useful about the both of you,” she concluded. “And that’s useful how?” Simon inquired after an uncomfortable silence. “I really can’t stand cooking. And now I won’t have to do it any more. Ever again. Or else.” Simon and Jayne looked at each other, embarrassed. Neither one was partial to cooking, either. “That’s just mean!” Jayne said, his voice low and his eyes downcast. “Maybe we can get turned over to the authorities before we’re rescued,” offered Simon. “Yeah, we can hope,” agreed Jayne glumly.